


The First Day

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlocks and Johns takes on waking up together for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my story! I love to hear from readers, so please leave me comments if you want to:)

Sherlock awoke silently and quickly. His body was not used to sleep and his tall, lean form was certainly not used to waking up to find a whisper of joy and euphoria pulsing in his veins. This sensation rendered the detective confused- for the first time in a long while. Sherlock, whose eyes remained shut, registered the soft fabric which was nestled under his hand. Funny. Definitely not bedsheets as they were soft and the thread held the texture of clothes- pajamas- to be more specific. The consulting detectives eyes shot open. The minute Sherlocks senses were at full capacity, they were overwhelmed- completely taken over in fact- by John. His john. Johns soft, caring face- Sherlock had it memorized- the way his eyes flickered, the number of beautiful laugh lines that were engraved into the side of his mouth, his wonderful lips, tongue. Sherlock attempted to clamp an iron hand over his mind as he so normally did, to deny his feelings and shoot out of bed. Go back to tobacco ash and push John out of the flat to prevent feelings from moving further. Perfect john- how could he possibly like Sherlock- the man who likes looking at dead things? It was impossible to believe. But then Sherlock smelled it. His distinct smell of soap and rosemary- the smell of home. A realization overtook the seemingly unfeeling man- John was his home. Sherlock would follow his blogger to the ends of the earth. He would never deserve john, but Sherlock vowed that his life would be spent striving to. With this thought, Sherlock wrapped his leg around johns hip, fisted the fabric of his shirt, and buried his face into his ex-army doctors warm shoulder. He remained awake as John slept, watching and admiring his doctor sleep. Carving into his memory the person he loved more than anything. 

John woke slowly from a deep slumber, an overwhelming happiness tugging at his heart and making him lethargic. It took the short, muscular man longer than it should have to register the nuzzle of a slender face and smooth, tangled curls tickling his chin. John smiled, recognizing the feel of his only consulting detective without having to open his eyes. The ex-army doctor turned his face into the dark curls before him and took in a deep breath of Sherlock. He smelled of adventure and documents, of tea and of miracles. Sherlock Holmes was everything John needed in his life. The tall, bumbling, idiot had healed John and given him a reason to live. John felt terribly lucky to witness his genius. He was glad to be along with the ride that was Sherlock Holmes. But that wasn't the side of Sherlock that John fell in love with. Don't get it wrong- John loved all of Sherlock, but the moment that John realized that he would do anything for this man was when he saw Sherlock laugh. The unguarded, raw, real person that John got to see. Sherlock was johns miracle. Exactly what John needed. And when John pressed a tender kiss to the man beside him's forehead, John hoped with all his heart that Sherlock knew. 


End file.
